


The Dichotomy of Denny Crane

by nic



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nic/pseuds/nic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denny's been keeping a secret from Alan.  (Set post S5.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dichotomy of Denny Crane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blackbird Song (Blackbird_Song)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbird_Song/gifts).



> Thank you SO MUCH to Lyrastar who did an amazing beta job within a very short timeframe. Her knowledge of these characters is unparalleled and the story benefitted greatly from this.

“This is ridiculous, Alan.  I told you, I’m fine!”  Denny obstinately stood and glared at the doors the doctor had just exited through, almost daring him to say anything different.  “I was supposed to be meeting a client this morning.  We’re just wasting my time!”

Placing a placating hand on Denny’s arm, Alan said, “Please.  The medic at the ranch said that you could have a delayed reaction, up to 24 hours after the incident.” 

Denny gave him a withering stare.  “It’s been 48 hours.  My ass doesn’t even hurt anymore.”  He paused.  “I do have a nice bruise, though.  I should get the nurse to.... ”

“Ah, Mr. Crane,” the returning doctor interrupted, and Alan breathed an internal sigh of relief.  The tests had been done, and while Alan agreed that Denny seemed fine, he didn’t want to risk it.  Falling off a horse at Denny’s age was not something to be treated lightly. 

“I’ve compared your results to your last check-up.” 

“Well?  Are you going to tell me that I’m dying?”  From Denny’s tone it was obvious he thought no such thing.

The doctor chuckled.  “Mr. Crane, you’re fine.  In fact, you’re in better health than a lot of my patients.”

Allowing himself a self-satisfied smile, Denny directed his attention back to Alan. “Didn’t I tell you I was fine?”

Alan didn’t dignify that with a response.  It had been a while since he’d accompanied Denny to a doctor’s visit – setting up a new firm had taken a lot more of his time than he’d ever envisaged – and this was his chance to ask a few questions. 

“You checked his heart?  His blood pressure?  What about the mad cow; are there any signs of degeneration?”

“Mad cow?”  This wasn’t a doctor Alan was familiar with, but he assumed Denny’s history was in the file. 

“The,” and Alan leaned forward, lowering his voice a little, knowing that Denny never liked to be reminded of the word.  “The impaired mental cognition – his forgetfulness.”  Denny tensed next to him.  “He hasn’t had many incidents lately....” and that caused Alan to realize that aside from the moments when Denny deliberately played the part of addled old man (usually to encourage more sympathy than he otherwise deserved), he hadn’t witnessed Denny’s confusion in quite some time now.  A benefit of married life?  Or was Denny hiding it from him, which was entirely plausible given the outrageous schedule they’d both been keeping.

In fact, it seemed he and Denny never really had the chance to just ‘talk’ any more.  Had Denny deliberately been evasive?  Or was it just marriage’s natural progression?  After all, once you had caught the fish (to use one of Denny’s favorite examples), the thrill of flirtation just wasn’t there any more. 

The trip to the ranch had been their first chance to reconnect in several weeks, and of course it had ended less than successfully when Denny’s horse had been spooked and reared back.  Denny knew how to fall – years of experience had taught him that – yet Alan couldn’t help but worry. 

Frowning, the doctor said, “The notes here say you’ve been clear for a few months now, Mr. Crane.  Have you been experiencing symptoms again?”

“Nothing to report,” Denny said quickly.  “Now, if we’re done here, can we please get back to work?”  He stood, reaching for his coat.  His face was a mask, his eyes avoiding Alan’s.

“Now just wait a moment,” said Alan.  “What do you mean, ‘clear for a few months?’”  Three or so months... that would take them back in time to when Denny had said that the latest Dimebon derivative seemed to have slowed the progression of his Alzheimer’s and now they were just keeping an eye on it. No real results yet.

Alan looked at the doctor.  The doctor looked at Denny.  Denny looked out the window. 

“This is my husband we’re talking about!” he continued in frustration.  “Now, maybe he forgot to tell me something important, so perhaps you could clarify what you meant by that statement?”

“Your husband,” the doctor began, slowly, deliberately, “shouldn’t be forgetting anything any more.  And if he is, I need to know about it.”

“Oh, Judas Priest!”  Denny raised himself to his full height, facing both men in the room.  “I haven’t been forgetting anything, I didn’t hit my head, and yes, the mad cow is gone.  Are you happy now?”  With that, he spun and stormed from the room, leaving Alan gaping in shock.

 

-

 

It worked.  The drug actually worked.  Alan found it hard to believe – miracle cures didn’t just come along.  There WAS no cure for Alzheimer’s.  That was a simple fact of life: no matter how much he and Denny had wished and hoped (and even, upon occasion, prayed to whatever deity might be listening), he hadn’t actually believed that a cure was possible. 

And yet, this was Denny Crane.  The universe dared not go against him, it seemed.  Not when the Supreme Court was on his side.  Or, as Denny himself was wont to say, God.

Now, Alan Shore wasn’t sure which particular deity (if any) he should be thanking, but even the random chance of the universe had seemed to smile on Denny Crane yet again.  Denny.  Cured.  It was unbelievable.  It was incredible.  It was the sort of news that should have had them both dancing from the rooftops across Boston and quite likely landing them in jail due to what could be considered exuberant carousing. 

Even now, he wanted to take Denny out and celebrate.  Just sit across from him and talk, and realize that it would always be like this.  The specter of Denny’s decline – the thing that haunted them both – finally gone.  Alan should have been ecstatic, and he was, but at the same time, Denny had pulled a disappearing act on him without even giving Alan the chance to say congratulations. 

When they’d returned home that evening, Alan had been presented with a file of paperwork which confirmed what both the doctor and Denny had said.  Two years into the trials, approximately 20% of patients’ cognitive tests showed not only stabilization, but improvement to general adult norms. 

The medics were currently monitoring Denny and the others to try and determine what had both halted the progression of the disease, and seemingly reversed the symptoms so thoroughly.  And of course, everything was wrapped in mountains of non-disclosure agreements that were borderline threatening. 

In his defense, this was a possible reason for Denny having kept the truth from him (although since when had Denny started respecting things like that, given that the pair of them were almost unbeatable in court?)

It was defeating the point of their marriage: the spousal privilege. Alan was supposed to know everything about Denny, so that he could be there for him, so that he could take care of him when necessary. 

And yet...

“You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”  The woman was young, blonde, and had legs that seemed to go forever.  Instinctively, Alan looked her up and down.  It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman – several months before his marriage, in fact – and while he and Denny had never explicitly asked the other to be faithful, somehow, it hadn’t even been an issue.  Alan was happy, Denny was happy, they loved each other and nothing had really changed. 

Sure, they flirted with women, they wined and dined women, and as always there were the endless discussions and fantasies, but at the end of the day, they went home with each other and no one else.  Quite often they danced.  Sometimes even twice a night. 

Alan was no stranger to being hit on, and at this moment, he found that he welcomed it more than usual. He gave the woman a half-smile, the invitation there for her to sit beside him at the bar.  “Long day,” he said, noncommittally.

“Tell me about it.”  She waved over the bartender, asking for a glass of wine.  “I’ve seen you here before, but you’re usually with that old man.  Is he your father?”

It wasn’t the first time Alan had heard that interpretation.  “No,” he began, “He’s my-“ and then he paused.  Placed one hand over the other, covering the wedding band, although he couldn’t quite say why he did it.  He tried again. “He’s not old.”  That was something, at least.  With a wry smile, he added, “Knowing Denny Crane, he’ll outlive us both.”

The woman didn’t show any sign of recognition at the name, which meant that she was well outside the circles of the bar’s usual clientele, or Denny’s star really had fallen since he’d spent the better part of the last two years in (Alan-inspired) philanthropy (“It’ll reduce our tax liability!”) rather than the courtroom. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, giving him a wide eyed smile.  “A virile guy like you, I’m sure you could outlast most people!”  She didn’t even need to wink,  so blatant was the proposition. 

Alan sat back a little, cocked his head to the side.  “Tell me your name.”

She did, and then proceeded to tell him about her life as well.  Alan found he wasn’t really listening, his attention temporarily diverted by a rather lurid fantasy.  He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about this. A day ago, there would have been no questions in his mind.  But now?  To discover that Denny had kept something _so important_ from him?

The revelation changed everything.  It really did.  Because if Alan were totally honest with himself, yes, he’d seen his marriage to Denny as something, well, temporary.  The whole “'til death do us part” bit was so much easier when death was staring them in the face.  He’d already buried one spouse and he’d spent the last two years mentally preparing to do it again.

He knew how it sounded, as if he were a commitment-phobic bastard (and to be honest, he probably was).  Yet he’d never been able to refuse Denny, and when Denny had really needed him, of course he’d been there. He’d stepped up.  He’d said yes.

“Knowing all the while that it was only temporary,” said the devil on his shoulder. 

And now it wasn’t.

And now he was faced with not only the idea of many years ahead with only Denny in his bed, but the choice of a very attractive, very willing woman right in front of him who had just slid one well-manicured hand up his thigh.

“I’m staying at the hotel just around the corner,” she invited.  “Let’s continue this conversation there?”  It was phrased as a question, one they both already knew the answer to.  Alan tossed back the rest of his scotch.  To hell with loyalty, to hell with unspoken promises.  He was going to do this – he _could_ do this, and nothing was going to stop him.

It wasn’t like Alan Shore had promised to be faithful. 

 

-

 

“I have a delivery for a Mr. Alan Shore?”

He glanced up from his desk and said, “My secretary can sign for it.”   He was a little tired of the fact that the latest intern made no attempt to screen his visitors.  It was time to start setting boundaries. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.”

Alan frowned.  He’d been in the middle of reviewing notes for an upcoming case – just one thing on his list of hundreds of things that needed to be accomplished that afternoon, and daylight was running out fast.  The last few days had been ridiculously busy, what with reading through Denny’s research notes and conducting his own investigation while avoiding the man himself.  Denny had also seemed to make himself scarce – on the few occasions Alan had gone home, Denny had been nowhere to be found.

As a result, he’d spent the last couple of nights sleeping alone.  It bothered him more than he’d realized it would have.

The courier was still there, shifting from side to side.  “I really need you to sign this.”

“And why is that?”

The man had the sense to at least pretend to be apologetic.  “Because you’re being served with divorce papers.”

“What?!”  Alan’s reaction could be heard across the entire floor.  He grabbed the papers from the messenger’s hands and stormed into the corridor.  “On what grounds?”  Not expecting an answer, he burst into Denny’s office directly across the hall.  “Denny!” he managed and thrust the papers forward.  He found he couldn’t even say the words.  “You....”

“Oh, so you got the papers?  Good, “Denny said mildly.  “Now if you’d be so kind as to sign them for me and this whole business will be over and done with.”

Alan was still in shock.  “You expect me to just agree to this?”

“I’ve been very generous, Alan.  Aside from my monthly stipend, it’s a 50-50 split all the way.  Oh, except for my ranch, but I’m sure you’ll agree that-“

“Denny!”  The absolute disbelief was beginning to wear off.  Denny was uncharacteristically fidgety, looking anywhere but Alan.  “What possible reason, what possible grounds, do you have for divorce?”

“You cheated.”

“I most certainly did not!”

“Then I cheated!”

“Denny, that’s ridiculous.  When?  Where?  What was her name?”

Of course there was no answer forthcoming.  “Just sign the papers, Alan, and it will all be over.”

Alan shook his head.  This whole thing, it had completely blindsided him.  They’d been so _good_ together.  They’d achieved so much.  “I just don’t understand where this is coming from.  We’ve been happy, haven’t we?” he tried.

“You’re _not_ happy, Alan.”

“I’m not?”  This was news to him.  True, the last week he hadn’t been too pleased with Denny but most of the time he was too busy living life to think about if he was happy or not. 

“No.  This... this marriage thing.  It’s not what you signed on for.  Hell, it’s not what I signed on for.”  A pause, as Denny paced back and forth.  “Do you know how many times I’ve been accused of being gay?”

Denny continued, “Now, I know what you’re going to say, and maybe I do suit that definition, but Denny Crane is a heterosexual, dammit!”

“Is that what this is about? You’re having your inevitable gay crisis _now_ , after we’ve already been married for two years and been sleeping together for much longer than that?”

At least Denny didn’t tell him to keep his voice down, although there was no doubt the entire office was listening regardless of the volume given that the door was still wide open. 

“Well it’s always been obvious that you don’t have a problem with it,” Denny said darkly.  “Don’t you see, Alan?  I’m holding you back!”

“Back from what?”

“Sex! Life!  All of the world’s pleasures!”

He took a deep breath.  “That’s not true, Denny.  The past few years, seeing the world through your eyes...”

“You were seeing the world through the eyes of a dying man, Alan.”  He walked to the window, gazing out at the city.  “I’m not dying anymore.”

The words hung heavily in the room.  That was the crux of it.  The reason Denny had hidden his test results from Alan, the reason for the divorce papers.  “I know you married me out of pity-“

“It wasn’t pity!”

“All right, then, because I asked you so nicely, but the point is, the terms of our marriage have changed.”  He sighed.  “This is your out, Alan.  Please take it.”

Alan closed the door, gently, and went to stand beside Denny.  He softly placed a hand on Denny’s shoulder.  “And what if I don’t want out?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t touch me, and don’t pretend.”  He moved farther from Alan, shrugging away his touch. 

“What am I pretending about?  Denny, you have been lying to me for months!  And then you serve me with divorce papers without even a discussion?  What did I do?”

“I saw you with that woman.”

“What woman?”

“The night after you found out.  I went to the bar to apologize.”

 _Oh dear._   “Denny, I know you’re not going to believe me, but nothing happened.”

“You didn’t come home that night!  Alan, that was when I knew that no matter what I did, or didn’t do, I couldn’t keep you.”  He sighed, and there was a quaver in his voice.  “I’ve got no hold over you any more.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  Alan tried to say it in the most loving way possible.  “It’s not about you needing me, it’s about...” and then he paused.  Because what Denny was saying had an element of truth in it.  Wasn’t that why he’d left the bar with the woman whose name he didn’t even remember?  To prove to himself that he was still in control of his own life, and could still make his own decisions even if he was married to Denny?  And yet, in the end, he hadn’t been able to go through with it.  There was meaningless sex – which both he and Denny were full devotees of - and then there was meaningless sex used as a distraction.  And when it came to Denny, he couldn’t – wouldn’t - do that. 

“What do you want, Alan?”

He found that he couldn’t answer.

“That’s why I’m doing this.  You need to find out.”  There were hints of water in Denny’s eyes and he started shuffling towards the exit.  Still the incredible, proud Denny Crane, but with a new maturity, something Alan hadn’t consciously comprehended before. 

“My God.  You actually love me.  You truly, selflessly, love me!”

“Well of course I love you!”  He was quick to add, “I wouldn’t divorce anyone else for this!”

It was Denny setting him free.

It would have been far better to have a proposal without qualifications and excuses, Alan now realized.  When had he come to that conclusion that he actually wanted – no, _craved_ – being desired by Denny?  Beyond the admissions of love and friendship? 

It had been there for a time, he realized, growing slowly until he couldn’t imagine a life without being Denny Crane’s husband, for better and for worse.

“Denny, wait.”  He was at the door.  “Don’t go.  Talk to me.”

“We used to talk all the time, Alan.  When did we stop?”

The answer was complex: in between their honeymoon, quitting Chang, Poole and Schmidt and setting up endless new projects which culminated in their new firm, their balcony time had become a thing of the past.  Yet Alan could see their brand new balcony, just off the hall, waiting for them.  It had been part of the offices’ design, already set up with two chairs, the scotch, and the cigars. Still unused.

“Come with me,” Alan said, and took Denny outside.

“I need to tell you something.  I need to tell _me_ something. I need us both to realize that we chose each other.  Above all others.  And it doesn’t matter what reasons or what excuses we used, because, Denny, I love you.  You know that, but do you know that it’s not just as a best friend?  It’s everything.

“And I never thought I’d hear myself saying that about anyone.  Even two years ago, I didn’t think I’d be making grandiose declarations like this.  It’s not me – I’m the one who won’t commit, but that’s what you did to me, Denny.  You came into my life and challenged my mind and we laugh together, work together, be together and it’s _always_ good.  And all of this time I’ve just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Wondering when we’d reach that point when the fairytale was over.”

Realizing he was just getting fired up at this point, Denny motioned for Alan to continue.  “This doesn’t have to end just because we got married.  We’re sabotaging it – the both of us.  Letting ourselves get distracted, not taking the time to talk, and not being honest with each other.  Are we really headed down that road?  It was working so well!

“I don’t want a bad marriage.  I want _us_ , Denny.  Sitting out here and talking about our days.  I want honesty.  I want to talk about those things we glossed over because we didn’t want to put too many restrictions on the other person.”

“You mean you won’t let me have a pony in the house?” Denny’s eyes were twinkling, and Alan seized his hand.  The humor was a good sign; it meant his words was actually getting through.

“Only if I get to play with it first.  And you’ll have to ask _me_ if you want to share.”

“My, my, Alan, so forceful!”

Alan allowed himself a small smile, before returning to the seriousness of the moment.  “Denny, there is no one else on earth I would rather spend my days – and nights – with.  And there are no qualifications on that.  It’s not a temporary thing.  I am ridiculously overjoyed that your mad cow is gone.  Do you know what a relief that is?  To know that I have you – _all_ of you, the complete you that is everything I love – all the time?”  He clutched Denny’s hand tighter.  These were the things he hadn’t yet verbalized, the overwhelming emotion having been buried under the deluge of distractions.

“We should have been out celebrating the moment you got the news!  You cheated us out of our moment!”

Denny looked around.  “Well, we have a brand new balcony.  How about we start celebrating now?”

“In a minute,” Alan smiled.  “There’s just something else I want to do first.”  Not breaking eye contact, Alan got down on one knee.

“Denny Crane, will you marry me?” 


End file.
